Loss of a Tattoo
by Iceworth
Summary: When Kathryn grieves a friend, it's an omnipotent and reputed insensitive prick who turns up to make sure she isn't alone.


_(A/N: Whee, Qness! Q is my favourite character on the ST series, and I really think there's not enough J/Q fanfiction out there. I feel deprived! So. I'm going to fix that!_

_I wrote this a couple of months ago, and I'm afraid Q acts a bit OOC in it. This isn't the best thing I've written, but I hope it's okay.)_

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Nothing greeted her when she let herself in, except for the furniture and the dark. It added another pang to her heart. She moved through, shivering. The only warmth she felt was the twin trails of salty tears that leaked from her eyes.

The apartment had felt full of life, once.

She felt her way through the darkness to her living room, pulling open the curtains. The full moon spilt white light into the room, illuminating a glass coffee table and a pair of small sofas – and she choked on tears.

The moon. It had meant so much to him. At least he'd seen it again, before…

She let out a shuddering sigh, her shoulders shaking. She wouldn't cry. He'd known her as the strong captain – as the strong _admiral_ – and she wouldn't cry. He wouldn't want her to be sad. Irritated, maybe. Happy, certainly, but it wasn't as if she'd be happy anymore. Not for a long time. Not when somebody who'd once been her other half was gone.

She drifted to the kitchen. Ignored the darkness as she ordered the replicator in a soft tone. "Coffee. Black." Screw the time of day. She needed to pull herself together. Get some semblance of normality back.

The coffee materialised, her blessed black liquid. Gratefully, she took the mug and moved back to the living room. There, she sat on the cold leather of the sofa, staring at the moon like a lost dog, trailing her eyes over the craters.

She remembered them. The aliens that had plunged Voyager into sleep. And the moon had helped him wake up. Wake them all up.

She closed her eyes to hold in the tears.

He wouldn't wake up again. This time, death had claimed him and he wouldn't come back.

He'd loved her, once. And she'd loved him, too. It had been foolish to think that maybe one day, when they got to earth, they would be together at last. That meanwhile, they'd be quietly faithful to each other. Pretending it wouldn't be years and years away. But the years _had_ whittled away, and… he'd given up on her.

She should have talked to him. Should have said her feelings. But Seven got there first.

But as much as she'd wanted to, she could never resent Seven. The once-borg was the closest thing to a daughter she could ever have. The request Seven had made several months later made her eyes shine with tears again.

She could still see her. Seven, standing in front of her, hands behind her back, but nervousness flickering in her eyes in a way that made Kathryn's lips curl in a smile. "_If… it would suit you… I made a suggestion to the commander that perhaps… you could sit in the place of… the bride's mother. Is that… is that acceptable to you?_"

She'd cried then, too. It had startled poor Seven. Hugged her tight, given her congratulations. Said, _of course I will_.

Seven was the closest thing she'd ever have to a child. She could still have children now – but she was too old, and by the time she would find somebody, it would be too late.

She never even wanted anybody now. Not after Chakotay.

That didn't stop people from trying, of course. Much to her annoyance, _Q_ had shown up shortly after her arrival back to Earth and had dropped in frequently since. He lit up the apartment quite in the way Chakotay had, with his laughs and cheeky comments. Q had made _her_ light up in a way that Chakotay hadn't. Chakotay was quiet, soft-spoken. He made the room glow, made her smile, made the place seem warm. Q, as much as she hated to admit it, made the place come _alive_.

Which was why she hoped beyond anything that the fancy to drop in in the middle of the night didn't take him. They'd made an odd kind of friendship…

… but she really, _really_ wanted to be alone right now. She blinked away more tears, sipping at her mug.

Funny. Junior could have been her son. His real mother was a nightmare and had disowned him, after all. She'd have made a better mother than _that_ woman –

_Am I jealous?_ The thought disoriented her, and she sipped at her coffee again. She wasn't going to sleep tonight. Grief had twisted her mind far too much, even if she hadn't had the coffee. Chakotay had just died, and she was thinking about her _godson_.

But…

… Q would not have stayed. And when she came back to the apartment tonight, it would have been to a sleeping little boy and his exhausted babysitter. She'd have paid her, let her go, then watched her son sleep. She wouldn't be alone. Q wouldn't be around – she really thought he would have got bored and wandered off, no matter what she said – but she'd have somebody here. She wouldn't be so lonely.

_Stupid thing to think, really_. If only Seven had wanted company, but… she'd requested to be left alone, her eyes red, face wet. The image made Kathryn's own tears return.

"Pff. What are _you_ doing up at this time of night? And with _coffee_? Don't deny it, Kathryn, I checked your replicator's history." The voice that suddenly pierced the silence of her living room had her choking back tears – and she suddenly realised she wanted to be _alone_, in spite of all that she'd said. She could hear him rounding the doorway from the kitchen and his soft footfalls on the carpet, heading towards her perch. "You're not going to sleep tonight, tut tu – Kathy?"

He sounded stunned, for once in his life. _If you'd call it a life_. Ignoring her tears, she sipped at her coffee again.

"Kathy?" he said again. He stood in front of her now, blocking her moonlight.

She ignored him, too. She just didn't have the energy to deal with _him_. She closed her eyes.

He'd go away. _He had to._ He had no sense of sympathy, he'd get bored and leave.

"Kathy…?"

She liked hearing his voice, all the same. An extremely annoying omnipotent being wasn't a little boy, or even a spouse – she felt her teeth grit at the thought. What was she, a teenaged girl? – but it was _someone_.

Someone who'd never encountered somebody grieving before, probably, in all his billions of years. The thought made her let out a bitter laugh.

"Kathy?" he sounded genuinely puzzled, now.

He'd probably thought she'd gone insane.

"It's nothing, Q," she said, hating every word.

Chakotay wasn't _nothing_. He'd been the world to her. Her harbour, her best friend, her other half in spite of everything. They'd fought, and sometimes they'd been apart in ways that physical closeness could not remedy, but he had always been _there_. Even after they came back to Earth, when he'd drifted away from her because of her petty jealousy of Seven…

She'd been _so stupid_. But why had the borg found love, and not her, after all? Why did Seven have someone, and she didn't?

_She doesn't, anymore_, she chided herself gently. Guild wrenched her, clawed at her. _She doesn't have anybody to comfort her, either…_ The thought stung. Poor, poor Seven...

Neither of them would see his dimpled smile again. They were both alone.

_I'm being so selfish… she's suffering more than I am._

"Kath_yyyyy_?"

Kathryn gave a sigh, looking up at Q's silhouette. In the darkness, her eyes could barely trace out his features blinking in confusion. "Yes, Q?"

"What…?"

Q didn't need to finish the question for Kathryn to answer. "Chakotay died."

"Chuckles?" Q blinked, and frowned. "_Him_? How did _he_ die, of all people?"

Perhaps Q's callousness would make her feel better - as it was, she could almost feel a delirious chuckle rising up. She'd always been the apathetic bitch on Voyager, after all. Little miss I-can't-have-a-relationship-or-a-real-life. She was the person who dedicated herself to the crew, while letting them have all the fun.

Why was she thinking this? Thinking about herself, when Chakotay's smile was gone and the apartment wouldn't glow again with his visits, and the pot roasts would never be burnt again and her glorified toaster would have nothing to conjure up like magic except for the damn coffee? When she wouldn't see the pattern of his tattoo again, the same tattoo that had once fascinated her when she first knew him, when she wouldn't see his smiles and feel his comfort, when her only daughter went home to a cold, empty house identical to her own and slept in a bed where the sheets would still smell of him? When he was gone _forever_?

Her hands shook, and the coffee mug slipped from her fingers, bouncing on her knee and falling to the carpet. A brown stain grew. She let out a choking sob, raising her hands to her face, but it didn't feel right – she just wanted to hear _something_. She wanted to feel _something_. She'd cried earlier, but it hadn't seemed right, it didn't seem like grief, not the consuming agony that had almost destroyed her when her father had died. She didn't feel _anything_ right now, except self-pity, and now when she finally wanted the tears to come they weren't _there_…

"Kathy…"

His voice was soft, now. Crooning. The sofa sank beside her with his weight.

_Strange_, she thought, distantly. So distantly she almost couldn't hear her thoughts. _Where does the matter that he uses to create his human form come from?_

She didn't even feel angry at herself, anymore, for thinking about something so trivial. She didn't feel anything. Just lowered and stared at the hands on her knees, the cold, white, shaking hands…

And then, finally, the tears came. Hot against her skin. They dripped down her cheeks, and she could feel them drop from her chin onto the fabric of her uniform.

"Oh, _Kathy_…"

She let out a sob as he pawed at her shoulder awkwardly – and she turned and buried her face into his chest. Felt his warmth. He'd got every detail right, down to the fluttering heartbeat inside him.

And the rhythm soothed her. He awkwardly put his arms around her, and she pressed herself to him, wanting to hear the rhythm. Pushed her ear to his chest, feeling her own heart calm as she listened. Her eyes fluttered closed.

She felt a lot better now.

"Kathy?" he murmured again. And some part of her smiled a little and thought, _oh, the idiot._

"Shut up," she muttered.

He didn't say anything.

He was magnificent, she had to admit. When her eyes opened again, her forehead pressed to him, even in the moonlight she could see the faint fibers of his uniform. She could feel his body heat, and hear his heart humming. He'd put so much detail into his human form. It was amazing how he could just _create_ it.

"You're beautiful," she murmured, before she could stop herself.

"Kathy, are you drunk?"

"Yes," she said quickly. Her voice sounded scratchy. "I mean – no. Maybe."

Her mind felt so muddled. She squeezed her eyes shut again. Steadied her breathing. She needed to clear her mind…

_No_. To clear her mind would be to remember who was gone. She didn't want to remember. She wanted to forget everything. She focused on the present moment. She normally wouldn't be caught dead touching Q…

_To hell with it_, she thought, drawing her legs up onto his lap as well. He didn't say anything, and slowly he drew his arms around her.

She relaxed a little. Let her eyelids rest together instead of press against each other. Let her head rest against his shoulder. She moved her forehead to rest against his neck and cheek, and she could feel his pulse against her face, which made her smile.

Then she frowned. "Not a good artist after all."

"Huh?"

"You made your heartbeat go too fast."

"Pff. My heartbeat is _fine_, Kathy."

"It's too fast."

"Well, _your_ heart is too slow." She flinched as he moved his hand to her neck, his fingertips searching for her pulse. "Wait, no, it's normal now."

Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn't used to being touched.

An image of Chakotay crossed her mind and she screwed her eyes shut again, filling with guilt. _How dare she think about herself?_ She sniffled again and buried her face in Q's neck.

He sighed. "Kathy…"

She didn't speak for a long moment, just enjoying the warmth… the winter chill of the apartment surrounded them, and the warmth was welcome. "Yes?" she finally murmured.

"When did this happen?"

She felt the words clog her throat, and choke her as they came out. "This morning."

"And what is the bloody time on this planet?" she heard Q mutter. "Computer, lights."

She shrunk away when the computer obeyed, and screwed her eyes shut again. She didn't _want_ the light, and clung to Q's front. "Computer," Q went on. "What is the time?"

"One hundred hours, twenty two minutes."

"Sheesh, where've you been all day?" Q muttered. Kathryn didn't respond except to press her face to his neck. She didn't want to _see_ the light. "Kathy? What's wrong?"

_What do you think is wrong?!_

Almost as if he'd read her mind, he went, "Sorry, stupid question. Computer, lights off." She breathed a sigh of relief as the computer obeyed again. "Let's put you to bed, shall we?" She blinked, for suddenly she felt a mattress underneath her. She was now lying on her back, blinking at the ceiling in the darkness, her head on the pillow. She felt… strange.

Only then did she realise she had a satin nightdress on. "Q!"

_Oh, that idiot_. She felt relieved that at least _something_ stayed the same.

"Yes?"

"My pyjamas!"

He sighed. "_Fine_."

That was better – flannelette, now. Nice and warm. She sighed, curling up on her side after pulling the quilt over her, closing her swollen eyes again and resting her head on the pillow.

Her throat clogged again. She screwed her face up again. She tried to empty her mind. Tried to, tried to –

Failed.

"Kathy?" said Q.

_Is that all you can say?_ "Yes?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

She opened her eyes again, in surprise, to see Q sitting on the floor with his arms folded on the edge of the bed, looking at her with those blue eyes.

"Stay?" she said.

He quirked his eyebrow slightly. Seeing him up close, seeing all the detail he put in his _face_, too – made her flinch slightly. "You know, the act of sticking around? What else do you mortals call it?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Well, would _you_ want me to? You mortals grieve too much."

_Insensitive prick._

She felt a lump in her throat. She sucked in her breath, closed her eyes again.

"I just don't want to remember what's happened."

And suddenly he was behind her, now – on top of the covers, his weight sinking the mattress, an arm around her, a gesture which made her flinch, yet felt strangely welcomed. "I'll stay," he said softly. "Don't think. Just rest. It'll be okay."

She nodded.

For a Q, perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
